


Baths, Bombs, and Butterfly Kisses

by DaringlyDomestic



Series: Tumblr Ficlets [16]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-05 20:14:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6721717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DaringlyDomestic/pseuds/DaringlyDomestic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What happened, love?” </p>
<p>Sherlock tightens his hold on John and tucks himself into his neck so that John can no longer see his face. He mumbles against John’s skin and John has to listen very intently to catch what is being said. </p>
<p>“I wanted to make you some of those bath-bomby things you like so much. You like taking baths. It relaxes you, but you hardly ever spend money on luxury items. I thought I could make you some and then you could be relaxed without feeling guilty over a “needless” expense.” </p>
<p>John can feel the heat of Sherlock’s embarrassment where their skin touches. He is touched by the sentiment, but Sherlock hasn’t explained the bleach yet. So John waits. </p>
<p>“It didn’t go well.”</p>
<p>John breaks Sherlock’s hold so that he can turn and face the man. He runs his hand through Sherlock’s riotous silky black curls and is amused to find his fingers covered in gold flecks. </p>
<p>“You’ve got glitter in your hair, love.”</p>
<p>John chuckles and flutters his eyelashes against Sherlock’s temple. Sherlock relaxes into John. The man may swear he is above sentiment but John knows he has a particular weakness for butterfly kisses and soft touches.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baths, Bombs, and Butterfly Kisses

**Author's Note:**

> So this was partially inspired by a conversation I has with @mssmithlove1 about Bath Bombs. It's basically just smutty smutty happy loving idiots, which I rarely write so...do with this what you will.

John’s feet have barely hit the first step when the harsh chemical scent stings his nose. With a weary sigh, John hurries up the stairs and rounds the corner into the kitchen.

“Sherlock?”

The man in question isseated in his chair, eyes shut, and hands steepled under his chin. He makes a hmm? noise in response but gives no other indication of interest in the conversation.

“Sherlock, why does the flat reek of bleach? Please tell me I am not going to discover the remnants of some horrific experiment gone wrong.”

John waits for a response, but Sherlock seems to be lost in his own thoughts. When no answer comes, John heads into the kitchen to make tea. 

Once his back is turned, Sherlock cracks open one eye and a smile stretches across his face. His fingers tap against one another with nervous energy. He rises softly and pads quietly into the kitchen behind John, who has just set the kettle to boiling. Sherlock wraps his arms around John’s chest and rests his chin on John’s shoulder.

“I cleaned.” 

John looks at Sherlock with a raised eyebrow. 

“Honestly John, I am a grown man. I am perfectly capable of cleaning the flat. Don’t act so surprised - it’s tedious.”

John chuckles and nuzzles his nose against Sherlock’s cheek.

“Not surprised that you can. You are, as you say, a grown man. I’m just a little shocked that you chose to clean. Did something happen?”

Sherlock’s cheeks go red and John knows he’s hit upon the heart of the matter. He places a quick peck on the embarrassed genius’ cheek.

“What happened, love?” 

Sherlock tightens his hold on John and tucks himself into his neck so that John can no longer see his face. He mumbles against John’s skin and John has to listen very intently to catch what is being said. 

“I wanted to make you some of those bath-bomby things you like so much. You like taking baths. It relaxes you, but you hardly ever spend money on luxury items. I thought I could make you some and then you could be relaxed without feeling guilty over a “needless” expense.” 

John can feel the heat of Sherlock’s embarrassment where their skin touches. He is touched by the sentiment, but Sherlock hasn’t explained the bleach yet. So John waits. 

“It didn’t go well.”

John breaks Sherlock’s hold so that he can turn and face the man. He runs his hand through Sherlock’s riotous silky black curls and is amused to find his fingers covered in gold flecks. 

“You’ve got glitter in your hair, love.”

John chuckles and flutters his eyelashes against Sherlock’s temple. Sherlock relaxes into John. The man may swear he is above sentiment but John knows he has a particular weakness for butterfly kisses and soft touches.  

John moves lower, showering Sherlock's face with gentle fluttering sweeps. Sherlock's breath quickens.

"John."

John ghosts his lips across Sherlock's, barely touching, little more than an exchange of breath. Sherlock makes a needy noise and presses forward, looking for more contact. John arches back to keep his lips away. He presses feather-light kisses to each of Sherlock's eyebrows and pecks his nose. Sherlock has almost gone limp from all the attention. John takes advantage of the genius' relaxation and sucks on his earlobe - hard.

Sherlock cries out and his hips automatically thrust forward. John takes pity on the man and hauls him in for a long, wet kiss. His tongue licks along those plush lips and dances with Sherlock's tongue.

John started with the intention of drawing this out. Teasing and thanking Sherlock in equal measure, but with the man actually in his arms, he knows he'll never make it. Already, they're panting and thrusting and clawing at each other. John slides Sherlock's robe off his bony shoulders and hauls his t-shirt over his head.

A particularly well-timed thrust coupled with a lascivious twirl of his tongue has Sherlock arching back. John takes advantage and nibble-kiss-licks his way down Sherlock's impossibly long neck. John makes sure to hit every stray freckle as he makes his way toward Sherlock's collarbone. He suckles on the sensitive junction and Sherlock moans \- a deep, throaty sound that shoots straight to John's cock.

Sherlock hauls John's jumper over his head as John focuses his attention on Sherlock's right nipple. He runs his tongue slowly around the pert nub. He rolls it between his teeth and sucks. Sherlock is flushed with arousal. John repeats the attention on his other nipple while his hands deftly work to free Sherlock's erection from his pajama bottoms. The combination of wet, hot suction on his nipple and smooth, careful strokes along his cock makes Sherlock weak at the knees.

John pushes him back until his arse hits the counter. Without breaking either point of contact, John hauls the lanky detective onto the lino and starts to kiss his way down. He looks up and catches the look of amazement on Sherlock's face as he slides his tongue over the dripping tip of Sherlock's cock. The man's head falls backward with a resounding thunk against the kitchen cabinets.

John runs his hands soothingly over Sherlock's thighs. He doesn’t want to have to check Sherlock for a concussion later. In between kitten licks, John murmurs soothing nonsense.

"It's alright, love. That's it. Yes. I want to make you feel so good. God, you're amazing. I could spend the rest of my life sucking your cock."

At that, Sherlock whines high and loud. It almost sounds like pain. John pauses, lets Sherlock's cock rest softly in his mouth as he lifts his eyes to check on Sherlock. He is looking down at John with adoration and not a little fear. John replays the last few moments of chatter and realizes what he just said. He takes Sherlock to the root and smiles reassuringly. His eyes shine with honesty and love. Sherlock makes the high whining noise again and there are tears in his eyes but he is gripping John's head tightly.

"Don't stop, John. Please. Don't - "

Sherlock's abdomen is clenching and his entire body is drawn tight until he relaxes all at once and hot salty streams of come are filling John's throat. It is the goddamn hottest thing John has ever seen.

John is still swallowing Sherlock's come as he slides his hand into his trousers. He pushes them down so that he can fist his cock. He is near desperation by now. His fist moves in harsh fast jerks that lance straight through his brain and awaken something primal, animal inside of him. He presses firmly against Sherlock as he comes. The white liquid stripes Sherlock's chest. John reaches up and runs his hand through the mess, streaking it over even more skin. It's not enough.

Without words, Sherlock understands. He leans forward and captures John's lips in a searing kiss. John goes pliant at the contact and they kiss deeply, lazily for several minutes before John breaks away. He doesn't have the air to keep kissing Sherlock amidst his own laughter.

"We've gone absolutely barmy! You made me a bath bomb that actually exploded going by the state of you and I sucked you off in the kitchen because you looked beautiful with gold glitter in your hair."

Sherlock giggles along with John and wraps the smaller man in a warm embrace. He kisses the fringe that is starting to hang in John's face. John smiles up at him. He offers Sherlock his hand.

"I think tonight is a perfect night for a relaxing bath. You coming?"


End file.
